


Incessantly

by gokkyun



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Fluff, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gokkyun/pseuds/gokkyun
Summary: A favor for a favor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> lol @ this 
> 
> Wrote it over a few days while playing League and felt like sharing it since there's so little of this ship. No real story, just a lot of talking, shenanigans and groping. Plays after Mankind Divided, so slight spoilers for that and the SR DLC (but nothing major). Also some hints for Black Light, but again, nothing major that'll spoil you the book if you haven't read it (yet). Proofread only once 'cause I'm lazy and ... yeah, this is really self-indulgent but how else would it be. Warnings for mild cursing and sexual content ofc. Enjoy reading.

There aren't a lot of people Adam Jensen expects on his doorstep, if there are any at all. The possibility of it happening nevertheless is low, even lower considering the still remaining though less strict and violent curfew during yet another rainy night in Prague. But by now, Adam is hardly surprised by anything anymore, not even by the person that awaits him as he opens his door. 

"Hello, Jensen," comes the almost stoic greeting from his former colleague and supposed friend Francis Pritchard, a soft and seemingly constant frown across his aged features. 

"Francis ...," Jensen murmurs, the cold air from outside clashing against his bare chest as he contemplates for a second there to close the door again, remembers what mess Pritchard had gotten him into the last time they talked and how he simply cut the other man out of his life again. By switching off his TV. But he also remembers the morning after, and the small pang of regret that came with that decision. "What do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

A couple of silent seconds pass before Francis opens his mouth, although the silence remains. His words are obviously stuck in his throat, which he clears as his gaze shifts to the ground. "I suppose it's me who has to ask you for a favor first, this time around," he finally manages to word out before his left hand finds its way onto his neck, which is halfway covered by his jacket that's closed for once, obviously due to the rain that's flooding the streets. "You see, I'm kind of stuck. Had to take a flight to England. Work-related. For - well, doesn't matter. Had a halt here. Now comes the but," Francis takes a deep breath, the frown on his face deepening. "they lost my luggage. So now, I have to wait for it and for these degenerates to get me an alternative flight. Can't believe I'm stuck here of all places."

Jensen lowers a single eyebrow, the scarred one. "And lemme guess, your paranoia kicked in at the thought of staying in a hotel, mhm?" A little nod is all Jensen gets, all Jensen needs as an answer. "I'm flattered that you thought of me in your hour of despair, Pritchard."

"Christ, Jensen, it's not like I have much of a choice here," Francis hisses and the tiredness or frustration or maybe a toxic mixture of both is so audible in his voice that Adam almost feels sorry. Almost. "According to you and to what I've seen in my one hour of finding my way here, Prague isn't exactly the safest city and by the looks of some of the people around here, I sure am glad that I'm still in one piece. So, are you gonna let me in or shall I go down, begging on my knees?"

"I'll pass, as thrilling as the offer may sound. Come on in - for now." With keen eyes, Adam watches the corners of Francis' mouth twitch upward the slightest bit as he lets the other man in. A small suitcase on wheels follows him, probably hand luggage. Without being asked, Francis removes his soaked shoes, grunting in discomfort as his wet clothes follow his movements. Adam watches the older man snake out of his jacket, releasing more displeased sounds while doing so. Pity makes its way through his gut. Or maybe it's concern. Probably neither, Adam thinks. "You should take a shower, get outta these clothes and preferably into some dry ones." 

"You do remember the part of me telling you about my lost luggage, Jensen?" Francis grumbles. 

A deep sigh escapes Adam's mouth, unable to hold it in as he walks further into his flat and into his bedroom. He rummages around in his closet for a moment or two before he returns to Pritchard who is standing in the middle of his living room, eyeing about. The old movie Adam had to pause earlier when he heard the doorbell ring for the fourth time was still flickering on the large TV, a couple of files Adam took home from the Task Force office scattered on the coffee table and the floor. 

"Well, cozy you have it here. If you ignore the mess of books and papers, the fort of decorative cardboard boxes, the occasional influx of dust and goodie, you are still living off of cereal?" Francis comments sarcastically when Adam steps next to him, holding a rumpled mess of clothes in his artificial hands. 

"You know, a year back when I asked you for help, your hideout wasn't exactly the most prestigious thing either, especially not compared to this. But do make yourself at home, Francis," Adam shoots back with a harsh undertone in his voice and it's enough to shut Pritchard up, for now at least. He carelessly hands Francis a blue shirt and some sweatpants and although the other man's mouth is a grim, flat line, he nods with approval. It's the unspoken and most likely sole gesture of gratitude Adam will receive in the coming hours or maybe even days, depending on how long Francis is planning to stay. But it's not like Adam minds. Or cares. What he cares about is the movie that he had to put on hold just a few minutes ago. 

With a shrug of his bare shoulders Adam makes his way back onto his couch and presses play. The movie continues with his bathroom door closing in the background, soon followed by the distant sound of Adam's shower being used by someone other than himself for the first time he's lived here. 

Concentrated on some papers, Adam snaps back to full awareness when Francis sits down next to him some time later. He eyes the other man half-heartedly. It's hard to not notice the scowl on his face. It's even harder not to comment on it. "Why the face, Francis? I mean, not that it was unusual back at Sarif Indu-"

"Really, Jensen? You are seriously asking me why the face?" Francis interrupts him, voice a little higher than usual. "Have you considered that it might be because I'm stuck in Prague, without my belongings, forced to wear this?" The hacker's slender fingers brush over the blue shirt he's wearing, the ridiculous gnome of Adam's favorite cornflakes Magic Gnome printed on it. "When I said you lived off of cereal only, I was joking - and here you go proving I was right by handing me this absurd shirt." 

The upward curl of Adam's lips is subtle but he's unable to keep it down as he gives Francis a closer look, especially the admittedly stupid shirt. Surprisingly, the gray sweatpants are a perfect fit - but after all, Francis is only two or three centimeters shorter than Adam is. The thick strands of the older man's open and wet hair - even wetter than before - are clinging to his neck. "I got it for free," Adam finally cares to explain, "'cause I bought five packs of cereal at once. There was this special offer I didn't even know about. The cashier handed me the shirt and asked me if I'll ever eat all of the cereal before the expiration date." 

"And let me take a wild guess, of course you did." 

"Yeah. Took me a week or two. Anyways, what I was trying to say is that this is probably the only t-shirt I have. Everything else is coats, long-sleeves or tops." 

"Whatever," Francis grunts and lets the palms of his hands travel over his face, his index-fingers massaging over his closed eyes. "I got my laptop with me so at least I can finish some work until I can leave this confounded city."

Adam gives a couple of slight nods as reply before getting up. "Well, as I said, make yourself comfortable. Couch's all yours. Not for too long, of course. I have to be at the Task Force early tomorrow, so I'll be sure to be extra loud and wake you up. If your insomnia doesn't keep you up, that is."

A scolding huff of air leaves Francis' mouth but he doesn't add anything to it. He watches Adam disappear into the room at the far end of the moderately large flat - that doesn't look half as bad as Francis had stated earlier. He gets up, reluctantly so, to take a look through the window that still isn't covered by blinds. The increasing rain outside makes the streets look even less welcoming than what Francis had experienced on his way here, but maybe it wasn't even as bad as it could've been, considering the fact that he has no augmentations. No visible ones, anyway. 

But the whole situation here, even weeks after Rucker's death, is still anything but pretty. It reminds Francis of Detroit. Of how his life turned upside down in that city, several times. Two years back, he thought these protests were the pinnacle of the anti-augmentation rally that had been going on for a while, but little did he know. It was just the beginning. But he was busy with something else at the time. Someone else, to be precise.

Francis hates thinking back to that point. Hates to think about how his gut turned around when he saw Jensen on the operating table. All cut up, with wires and blood everywhere as the artificial replacements of his body parts were put in place. And as crude as the view might have been, it wasn't disgust that settled in his gut. It was something he barely feels anymore, even back then. Compassion. No, that wasn't it. Not exactly. It was worry. Worries about what might become of Adam Jensen, who, for some odd reason, Francis loves disregarding more than anyone else except when they have their verbal fights. Francis found himself visiting Adam in the hospital a few times, found himself visiting Adam even once he was released home. He told the other man and even himself that it was because Adam Jensen was one of Sarif Industries' most valuable assets from now on, as much as he hated to admit it, and that Francis needed to maintain Jensen. But that wasn't the truth. Not at all.

That fact became more evident when Jensen went missing for the first time. "Following a lead," is all Adam had told Pritchard while he was still in Hengsha and then suddenly disappeared into nothingness. A constant sting settled in Francis' stomach that wouldn't let go off him then. Three days without any sign of Adam and Pritchard felt like going crazy already. The old and much hated habit of focusing on nothing but his work kicked back in for the sole reason of finding Adam. 

"Take a break, Frank, Adam knows how to handle himself. I made sure of that," Sarif had told Francis before he left for Panchaea and as usual, Francis answered with a snarky remark that he can't quite recall anymore, too caught up in his work. Work that wasn't even his work. And then Adam appeared back on his screen, with new leads to the whereabouts of the scientists and in goddamn Singapore. Not even twenty-four hours later, the so-called Aug-incident happened. The disaster's effects were felt worldwide and within heartbeats and to Francis' distaste he felt them, too.

Especially when Adam went missing again - this time without a word and under the collapsing mass of Panchaea. 

Adam returned the first time he went missing so maybe he will this time as well, Francis told himself back then, and it's what he told Malik when she sat in Sarif Industries' empty cafeteria, late at night. Her for once ungloved fingers were digging into her cup as if her life depended on it, eyes red and tired. She looked like Pritchard felt. And how he probably looked as well. "Adam knows how to handle himself," Francis repeated Sarif's words and he wished his voice wouldn't have shaken so much. It sounded like an empty promise. 

They - him and Malik - talked that night, about Adam, about how the world is going haywire and how Sarif Industries is somehow still surviving. It won't be for long anymore and somehow neither of them seemed to care much.

Pritchard doesn't remember whether it was the hours of conversation or the overall situation that left him in a drowsy and almost dizzy state. What he remembers though, is that he found himself in Adam's office that night. Alone, with only the dim lights shining in from the lobby and the computer's monitor lighting up the messy room. Francis had cursed at Adam for still not changing his password and then came to realize that, maybe, he never would be able to. 

It was then that Francis' breath hitched in his throat and a gross sob echoed through the room. "Pathetic," he huffed at himself and did what he came into Jensen's office for in the first place. Looking for any lead about the man's whereabouts. Maybe he did survive Panchaea and went somewhere no one knew about. But it was to no avail. The crushing ache in Francis' stomach returned at that realization and this time it had a companion; the same relentless pain settled in his chest as well. And somehow it made him believe that Adam Jensen - Missing, presumed dead \- wasn't dead. Not yet, at least. Francis couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe. Not after three days, the amount of time Jensen went missing shortly after Hengsha. Not after a month, when Sarif Industries got swallowed by Tai Yong Medical. Not after three months, when Francis felt his own life wasn't worth living anymore. Not after all this time he looked for signs of Adam's whereabouts. And then he got the call. 

Francis' paranoia and pride wouldn't allow him to believe it was Jensen at first. Jensen, who asked him for a favor with that rough voice of his. After all this time. But it was Adam. 

A faint smile crosses Francis' features now, his light eyes still staring down onto a single lonely street in Prague. He suddenly shakes his head, shakes off his sentimental thoughts as well as the smile that he sees, reflecting in the window. It doesn't suit him and it most certainly doesn't suit this world. 

 

* * *

 

It's still fairly bright outside when Adam is on his way back home the next day. Unfortunately it doesn't make the Prekážka district that much more welcoming. With a relieved sigh to finally have reached the feigned security of his apartment, Adam closes the door behind him. For once he isn't greeted by the electronic voice of his house keeping system and he remembers why; the guest Adam isn't sure what to think of. 

Adam doesn't bother to call out he's home, simply puts his coat to the other two already hanging on the wardrobe and removes his shoes. "HUD off," he rasps into the comfortably warm air. The faint sound of his dryer is heard in the distant, the heels of his leg prosthesis joining in as they click against the wooden floor, Adam striding over to the couch. He's about to comment on how rude Pritchard is to not even greet him back from a hard day at the office but he holds his tongue when he sees that Francis is actually sleeping on the couch. 

The sight is rare, alien almost. The only times Adam actually saw Francis sleeping was once or twice in his office, late at night. And then there were those other times, when Pritchard helped him a couple of months back. Although those times were under much different circumstances and in a way Adam wouldn't have expected, in a way he still can't believe. 

Dense light from the outside is seeping in through the halfway closed blinds, reflecting softly on Pritchard and his laptop that's standing on the coffee table. A video of some sort of cartoon is paused there. Adam sits down on the ground, between the couch - and therefore Pritchard, who's resting on his back - and the table. His vision is clear due to his HUD being turned off and his augmented sunglasses being pulled back into their slots. It makes Adam realize just how pale Francis is, his monitor tan making him look almost tender. And with his face relaxed like this and without the wrinkles building up on his face whenever he frowns or when his mouth is pulled into that long, disapproving line, Francis looks much younger.

But the bleak and dark shadows under Francis' eyes remain, even when he's like this. Adam had noticed them back during their legally shaky actions inside the Palisade Blades, but they were even worse to look at in person. Worrisome. Almost. After all, Francis was still up when Adam got out of bed in the morning and if he had to guess, it's not unusual and by far not jetlag the other man is struggling with. It's obvious why and somewhat painful. 

Francis' old issue of morbid and ever-present paranoia, his terrible habit of consuming caffeine pills like candy bars, to stay awake under all circumstances. For the sole purpose of - what exactly? Adam isn't sure. He's never asked Francis what his bigger goal was, if he had one. Never dared to ask, in fact. 

After all, Pritchard was never the talkative type, safe for a snarky comment here or a witty remark there. But despite that, he's the only person that ever seems honest and truthful to Jensen in a world that seems to be corrupted, more so every day. Added to that is the fact that Francis is always there, for whatever reason, to help Adam out - even if it might be with a lot of dragging along and unhappy bickering. But then again, Francis Wendell Pritchard never seems to be happy. 

Adam wonders about yet another thing. About Francis' acerbic and brutally honest manner, to be exact, and where it could possible stem from. Then again, Adam isn't and has never been much of a people person himself. What did Francis call it? That moody loner thing you do so well. The thought makes Adam release a low but somewhat amused chuckle, his gaze still lingering on Francis. One of the loose hair strands in the other man's face catches Adam's attention and the urge to touch it settles somewhere inside of him. He misses the tingle in his fingertips that came with such a feeling, back when he wasn't more than human, but he goes for it nevertheless, black artificial fingers wrapping the strand around itself. The moment holds an unexpected kind of serenity that Adam hasn't experienced in quite some time but it doesn't hold on for long as Francis suddenly jerks awake.

Light blue eyes stare back at Adam and Francis' features are soft for a second there before the familiar frown returns, although it's more irritated than disapproving this time around. Adam takes his hand back to himself and it only seems to aggravate Francis further. "What exactly are you doing there, Jensen?" Francis finally asks and sits up, rubbing the cheek that Adam's hand lightly brushed against, as if he had an itch there. "You just had to wake me up, didn't you?" 

A sigh leaves Adam's mouth as he gets up from the floor and sits down next to Pritchard. "Not exactly what I was intending on doing," he says. "But let's leave it at that." 

"No, we're not leaving it at that. What exactly were you doing?" 

The question makes Adam ask himself the same thing. "I don't know either," he admits after a short pause. "Some kind of impulse. Maybe a remainder from a year ago. I really don't know."

"From a year ago?" Francis asks, his eyebrows lowered and knitted together, as if he's trying to remember whatever Adam could mean. But Adam knows that the other man doesn't need a reminder. "I thought we were never gonna talk about it again."

"Guess you were wrong there for once, Francis. I didn't wanna bring it up again either, but-"

"No buts, Jensen. I don't want to talk about it. Ever. It was a spur of the moment thing, every damn time, nothing more," Francis interrupts and gets up, folding his arm in front of his chest. It looks less serious with the blue shirt he's still wearing, Jensen remarks internally. "It happened 'cause you were being a nuisance, just like now, just like always. I didn't put any thought into it and neither should you."

"So I should just assume that you do that with everyone you're annoyed with?" Adam asks, obvious sarcasm in his voice.

"Christ, Jensen, of course not. What do you want to say here? I kissed you to shut you up, yes, and everything that came after was just ... it happened. Both of us were a literal mess back then. And as much as I hate to admit it but I'm bad enough with these - these human interaction things as it is and to actually have it happen, with you of all people? Not what I planned nor expected, trust me on that." Francis takes a moment to frame his next words, walking around aimlessly in the flat. "Look, you don't know why you touched me just now and I don't know why we had sex back in Detroit. I suppose neither of us knows that or what the goddamn point was, but it did happen. We can't change that. But I'd like to forget it. Or at least not fucking talk about it."

"Somehow I don't believe you. At all. Maybe it's the way your irritating, arrogant ass actually tries to explain itself. Or maybe it's the way your deathly pallor actually gains a color. A blush, to be exact."

"I told you not to use that damnable CASIE augmentation on me," Francis' tone is mordant. 

Adam huffs with light amusement. "Don't need an augmentation to read you, Francis. As much as you say you don't wanna talk about it, it still bothers you that we did what we did. No matter under which messed up circumstances. I just don't know in which way it bothers you but I would like to know." There's a long pause from Francis' side, idling a few steps away from the couch. "You should stop overthinking everything, especially this."

The hacker breathes in, audibly so, and walks back over to the couch, one leg tugged under himself and one hanging off the couch as he sits back down on it. He faces Adam with his body and the irritation in his face is visible, even more so when Pritchard's scrawny fingers close in on him. "You asked for it," Francis mumbles under his breath, his hands on either side of Adam's prominent jawline, rough stubble softly scratching his finger tips. Francis closes his eyes as his lips close in on Adam's, pressing against them, soft and somewhat hesitant. 

Lips that are somewhat familiar, lips that Adam has felt before and didn't know he needed against his own until now are against his, lips that Adam wants to respond to as they gingerly move against his, and so he does. A flash of light blue is Adam's reward, Francis' eyes lazily opening back up as he returns the kiss. They blink once, twice and shut again, Francis' thumbs rubbing small, gentle circles into Adam's cheek as he scoots closer, sighing into the kiss, audibly so, and somewhere in the back of his head Adam thinks something he never thought he'd think. Francis Pritchard is cute. As cute as a thirty-something nerdy hacker that has an overly self-centered and incredibly arrogant personality can be. 

With that thought roaming in Adam's mind, he makes use of his sleek and elegant cybernetic arm prosthesis, his fingers finding their way onto Francis' neck and cheek to find a better angle for whatever is going on between them. What comes next is unexpected though, as Francis pulls away, shivering at the same time. The two men look, no, stare at each other, and Adam can't help but notice the stark contrast of Francis' softly glowing cheeks and his icy eyes. "Something wrong?" Adam asks, as casual as can be. 

"W-Well. Not exactly. I just - I wasn't exactly expecting you to return the kiss. At least not this eagerly," Francis mutters, biting down on his lower lip. "Nor did I expect you touching me. The cold and the touch itself, well, surprised me." He averts his gaze. "Not really used to it."

"If you didn't expect me to return the kiss, then what the hell would've been the point of this? To throw you out?"

"To see if I - if I want this. If I want you. Since you insisted on me to stop overthinking and I didn't really see another solution," Francis says - lies, knows he wants Adam. He simply didn't think the feeling would be mutual and also didn't think a simple kiss would cause a reaction like this from himself. The tips of his fingers are prickling with anticipation, still resting on Adam's face, and despite the cold cybernetics against his own skin, Francis feels like burning up. 

Adam tilts his head slightly, raising his eyebrows. "So what did you find out, Pritchard?"

"That, apparently, we both seem in need of each other's - well-"

"Dicks?"

Francis' eyes widen before they narrow, as if offended. "Goodie Jensen, not what I was going to say, if you'd -" His words get interrupted by Adam whose turn it is to shut Francis up with a kiss this time around. Pritchard's inner voice starts to protest, because this isn't what he came here for. This is, in fact, not what he wants, not exactly. Because the last time it happened, it threw Francis off, even more so when Adam left Detroit again. But for once his body reigns over his mind, stops overthinking like Adam told him to when the other man's cybernetic hands travel south. They force Francis to lie back down onto the couch and Adam follows him, traps him against the cushions and a strong body, lips never leaving lips. 

An already breathless gasp from Francis' side allows Adam to slide his tongue inside the other's mouth. The pace is fast, even more so as Adam forces his lower body between Francis' legs who doesn't seem to mind any of this. The hacker shows it by releasing a soft sigh and by letting his nimble fingers wander into Adam's black and tousled hair, digging into it and tugging on it, not too hard, not too soft. 

It earns Francis a low growl from Adam, his naturally deep voice only adding to it's appeal and Pritchard can't help the sudden jolt of his hips, lower bodies colliding while their lips are still trading rough nips and gentle brushes, with their tongues intertwining every now and then. Taking it slow seems out of the question for either of them - after all, the slowly warming hands roaming over Francis' body seem to be insatiable, ghosting over his hips and upper legs, back and forth. And Francis is just as impatient it seems, legs scrambling to wrap around Adam's lower region, pushing their bodies even closer, unbearably close. 

Something akin to electricity surges through Francis' body when Adam's slender fingers find their way underneath his ridiculous blue shirt. They feel oh so good, warmer than before and indescribably gentle due to their smooth surface. It leaves Francis breathless, enough to make him pull on Adam's short hair, forcing their lips apart. Pritchard opens his eyes slowly yet fast enough to watch Jensen do the same, staring back into the artificial light green iris, shining with a soft shade of blue and yellow. "Feels oddly familiar yet ..."

"Different? I know. Guess Detroit and your hideout there weren't as charmful as my flat after all," Adam jokes and there's the ghost of a sincere smile on Francis' face, alien but alluring. It makes Adam place butterfly kisses on the corners of Pritchard's mouth. His hand has found the edges of the Magic Gnome shirt in the meantime, slowly dragging it upwards to reveal more of Francis before finally pulling the piece of clothing over the hacker's head. 

"And here I started to find liking in being a walking cereal advertisement." The joke is dull at best but like so often, it's not a joke for the sake of a joke but rather a defense mechanism. Francis might be arrogant but aside from his sarcasm he doesn't have a lot of defenses. And to have himself on display like this is something he's neither familiar nor comfortable with. Jensen seems to ignore his words though, or maybe he's too caught up to look at Francis' rail thin body, clean-shaven chest coupled with a flat stomach. "Quit staring," Francis finally demands, although abashed. 

"Why? You look good. Much better than last time, in fact."

Adam's words make Francis bite down on his lower lip and avert his gaze. He was never good with compliments, no matter if he's on the giving or the receiving end. "I suppose changing my diet from pills and caffeine to pills, caffeine and actual food really worked out," he murmurs, the biting sarcasm almost too much, even for Pritchard's tastes. Adam answers with an amused huff though. "Your turn," Francis continues and lets his hands travel into Adam's gray turtleneck top, impatiently tugging on it. Adam follows Francis' demand without protesting, raises his arms so the hacker can slide the top off. 

What's revealed is nothing new to Francis, yet he has to lick over his suddenly far too dry lips. His eyes are practically glued to Adam, to fairly wide shoulders and strong collarbones leading into a broad chest and a muscular abdomen. All of it covered by pale skin, scarred here and with metal there. The urge to touch what little flesh remains on Adam tickles in Francis' fingers and so he presses them against Jensen's stomach. 

A low and for both men unexpected groan is Adam's answer, one of his artificial hands holding Francis' hand in place, forces it to remain there, skin against skin. "Been some time since I've felt actual human hands there. And somewhere else," Adam explains, admits, and his mouth is agape while his eyes are slowly closing, as if the touch is the most heavenly thing.

"Let me guess, a couple of months? A year, to be precise?" Francis asks with a hint of hope and a soft chuckle underlining his words. 

"Yeah," Adam growls, moans almost, as he draws out the single word. He lets go off Francis' hand, both of them roaming further over his upper body, over his chest and his hips, warm and gentle yet slightly calloused fingers, fingers as human as they can be, gliding over his back, with the faintest hint of fingernails digging into skin. 

Another wave of soft but held-back noises escape Adam, burying his head in the crook of Francis' neck. His hot breath clashes against the pale skin there and Adam presses his mouth against it, can feel Pritchard's pulse racing as he sucks bruises into his skin, open-mouthed and wet. 

Adam notices how breathless Francis becomes, how sensitive the hacker reacts to the treatment he's receiving. It's something Adam hadn't noticed the last times the two of them did this, too caught up with the Illuminati, too caught up with the situation Panchaea had left the world in. The world is still shaken, maybe even more so than a year ago, and Adam still doesn't know what foul game the secret society pulling the strings is playing and yet he can't think about anything other than Francis' hoarse voice, especially when the other speaks up. "You know, Jensen ..." the hacker pants, fingers still spreading feather-light touches over Adam's back, "you still haven't shown me your bedroom." 

"And you think we should change that, do you?" Adam jests, his lips curling upward against Francis' heated skin. 

"Yes," Francis groans, his voice catching in his throat as Adam's hands find their way back onto his hips, leading both of them to stand up ever so slowly, never quite breaking contact. They stumble through the dimly lit apartment and past the open bathroom door, the only sound the still on-going dryer until a low chuckle from Pritchard that he doesn't quite manage to suppress joins in, caused by Adam's beard that scratches against the hacker's skin.

It's not long before the two men reach the door to the bedroom. Adam manages to take one of his hands off of Francis, uses it to open said door and before he can do anything else Francis pushes their bodies forward, into the room and onto bed waiting in there. But it's only Adam who's resting in the messy sheets, Francis standing on the bed's edge, his fingers hooked into the waistband of the gray sweatpants Adam had given him not even twenty-four hours ago. 

Their eyes lock and the way Adam's are half-lidded, shining with the slightest hint of lust, gives Francis what he's looking for. It's not their first time - and hopefully not the last - but he needed it, the confidence to go further. He pulls his pants down, unconsciously slow, almost teasing, and before Adam or Francis' own mind can say anything he climbs onto the bed, between Adam's legs to be precise.

"No underwear?" Jensen says and the smug tone in his voice would've annoyed Francis if not for the feeling of his freed erection pressing against Adam's still clothed crotch. 

"Remember my lost luggage, my drenched clothes and your dryer?" Francis snaps. "Don't think because-"

"I was just kidding, Francis," Adam interrupts, his back resting against the headboard of the bed while Francis is still resting between his legs. Smooth black hands cup Pritchard's face, as if to calm him down. "I don't care whether you wear underwear or not, nor do I mind. Rather the opposite." 

Francis' face changes then, into something softer, the heavy flush on his cheeks seemingly growing even more. He shakes his expression off with a mumbled "Whatever" and closes his eyes, leans in and presses his lips against Adam's once more. His hands work on the other man's black pants in the meantime, opening them with a hint of hesitation before pulling them down and throwing them off the bed.

Lips part, eyes open and Adam can't help but to look down, to his own cock, surrounded by black unruly curls as well as to Francis', lighter and softer hairs around it but just as hard and flushed as Adam's. He watches further, watches how Francis' long and thin fingers wrap around both of them, making them moan in unison. Pritchard keeps his hand moving up and down ever so slowly, presses his forehead against Adam's shoulders. "Jensen," he groans, "I-" 

"First drawer on the left," Adam interrupts before more words are shed, his voice just as heated and restless as Francis'. 

"You expect me to do all the work here, do you?" Francis murmurs as he uses his free hand to follow the directions given to him. He finds a halfway emptied bottle of lubricant and gives Adam a look. "Nights get lonely in Prague, eh?"

The reward of Francis' teasing is a shrug of Adam's shoulders, as well as a lopsided smile. "Bet they do in Detroit, too." 

An overly dramatic roll of Francis' eyes follows. "Just do something for once," he grunts and hands Adam the bottle.

"So you want to-"

"Take a wild guess." 

Mechanical yet careful fingers open the bottle, pouring a generous amount out, spreading the cold liquid between digits. Aforementioned bottle is closed and tossed aside without much attention where to by one hand while Adam's other hand's index-finger gingerly presses against Francis' entrance, who shivers against the touch. The single finger doesn't waste much time to breach the tight ring there, pushing in and out, which forces a couple of soft noises out of Francis, although Adam isn't quite sure of their origin. It becomes obvious that it's mostly pleasure instead of pain soon, at least according to the insistent way Francis' hips move against the finger, even more so as a second one joins in.

Francis' hand is still busy with both of their erections, stroking them with fervor before he stops himself, his whole body quivering with excitement as Adam hits his sweet spot. "Fuck," Francis breathes out, followed by a throaty moan that he breathes against Adam's shoulders. He bites down on his lower lip, trying to silence himself but it's futile thanks to the fingers inside of him, pushing and curling against the spot without mercy. "Stop teasing, Jensen, goddamn it."

To Pritchard's surprise, Adam follows his whined halfway demand. The loss of the other man's fingers and the full feeling they brought along leaves Francis breathless for a second there, but he doesn't have much time to regain his breath. He feels Adam's hands, one slippery and one smooth, on his hips as they flip him onto his back without much of an effort. Adam is swift to get between Francis' legs that almost instinctively wrap around Adam's hips. Rough stubble scratches down the jugular of Francis' pale but flushed neck, Adam's lips and teeth scrapping there, leaving small marks. "Since you wanted me to do something for once, I'll take the lead," Adam rasps, voice husky and even rawer than usual.

"Not gonna object," Francis breathes out with the company of a wanton moan, fingers settling on Adam's lightly sweating neck. He feels Adam's unsullied fingers in his hair then, pulling it loose while the other's slickened fingers disappear to somewhere else. A bit of shuffling in the already messy sheets follows and before Francis can say anything he feels the slicked tip of Adam's member press against his entrance, slowly but steadily. The sensory overload catches up to Francis when Adam teasingly bites into his neck while he pushes past the tight ring of Francis' hole, who shuts his eyes tight. Both men moan in unison, as if their bodies are in perfect alignment. 

Adam remains like this, unmoving and wrapped up in the feeling of Francis' pliant walls, hot around the tip of his length, accepting the intrusion without much resistance. He hums against Pritchard's warm skin with an absent mind and only snaps back to focus when the body beneath him starts to squirm, Adam's ears suddenly sharp for any sounds of discomfort. But all he hears is Francis' accelerated breathing as well as low panting. "Jensen, m-move it," the other man groans. 

Both of Adam's hands find their way back onto Francis' hips then, fingers raking down each side of his body gently and Adam can feel the other man twitching softly against the touches. "As you wish," Adam growls into the damp air and takes a deep breath, taking in the musky smell of Pritchard's sweat. He eases his cock further into Francis' body, almost tantalizingly slow, reaching deep inside. 

The steady roll of Adam's hips feels like tease and torture all at once to Francis. There's not much he can do about it, other than to dig his nails into the other man's neck, dragging them along his shoulders and over his back. The thrusts send Francis' body closer to its peak, all fierce yet rhythmic, Adam drawing out, more and more each time, before pushing back in with force. Force so heavy it makes Francis' body writhe, throwing his head back into the pillows while his back arches off the bed, desperate for contact. He tightens the grip his legs have established around Adam's waist, his own hand slipping between both men's sweating and heaving bodies, greedily wrapping around his own cock. 

Small breathy moans and the slapping of flesh against flesh are the only noises that fill the room. At least until Adam looks up and into Francis' face, usually pale skin tinted with a soft shade of pink, standing in contrast to the blue eyes that flutter open and close. "You don't look half bad like this," Adam grunts between a gasp, one of his hands wandering from Francis' hips and onto his warm cheek, further on through his slightly damp and messy hair that clings to his forehead and neck. Adam's words weren't honest, in fact, they were an understatement. He suddenly can't stop looking at Francis and the image he's presenting.

It gets worse when Pritchard's eyes stay open, half-lidded and filled with affection and lust. His straight teeth bite down on his full and kiss-swollen lower lip, a smile around the edges of his mouth that would make one think he's drunk. Love-drunk, perhaps. "Shut up, Jensen," he chuckles with amusement, the hand not on his own cock back in Adam's short hair, fingers gripping the strands tightly and forcing their mouths back together. 

The kiss is rough and sloppy, faces parting from time to time to catch breath. The rhythm of Adam's hips has become similar, uneven and savage and although Francis' body starts to uncontrollably tremble soon, it feels just so right. He catches Adam's lower lip between his teeth, muffles a low whine. "There - right there," he murmurs, barely audible, taken back by that certain feeling rushing through his stomach, amazed by himself that he can still form words. "Jensen - A-Adam -," Francis continues and stops himself from further embarrassment as he buries his face in the oh so welcoming crook of Adam's neck.

More and more pressure is applied to Pritchard's prostate, faster and faster, more relentless with every thrust and Francis is so close that he can feel his toes curl, the firm strokes his hand applies to his leaking length bringing him closer and closer. "Francis," Adam rumbles next to him - and his name growled like this, by that voice no less, coupled with a thrust that sends a burning, shuddering sensation through his whole body is all it takes. Francis comes, hard, works himself through his climax with shaking fingers and a muffled wail into Adam's shoulders.

The warm and sticky feeling of Francis' release clings onto his fingers and body, as well as Adam's. He watches with a tired sideglance as Adam's magnificent eyes fall shut, his mouth forming a single but silent word that looks like Fuck. Adam's hips snap forward then, the motion uncontrolled and primal and then it's his turn to topple over the edge, with a trembling body and another silent curse or two. 

Time seems to pause, at least until Adam pulls out and rolls off of Francis and onto his back. They're both breathless, speechless but luckily the afterglow's silence is unexpectedly comforting. 

Adam reaches for the nightstand next to him, his mechanical fingers scanning the furniture for a pack of smokes. He finds it and looks into it, a content smile ghosting over his lips as he finds the confirmation that the pack still holds plenty of cigarettes. Without thinking about it twice he takes two of them out, lights them both. He puts one of them into his mouth and hands the other to Francis, whose hand is already waiting for it. "Glad you remember." 

"Tsk," Adam replies and puts an ashtray onto the bed, between the little space between their slowly relaxing bodies. "These devils were the only thing that kept me from interrogating you back when we first fucked. 'Cause I had no idea what it was about. I thought it was mutual pleasure, nothing more, and didn't wanna bring it up. Especially not with what was going on. Guess I was wrong that it was just fucking. At least on my side."

Both men are still sprawled out in the bed, Pritchard taking a drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke escape through his nose. "Same. I thought the same, is what I mean. I always had a thing for you. Kind of. Just - showed it in a weird way. Or not at all." They both chuckle and Francis takes another drag before he continues. "But with everything that was going on back with Sarif Industries and after you returned from Panchaea - my stupid feelings and I felt too insignificant to talk to you about it all. It was already a miracle that we did what we did. Even now."

"You? Insignificant? Not the great Francis Wendell Pritchard!" Adam says.

"If I wasn't so exhausted and sticky I'd fight you."

Adam turns his head to the side, the pillow underneath him making a soft shuffling noise. "Say, Francis, did you really come here after your plans got messed up or was -"

"Really now, Jensen? Are you suggesting I came all the way to this accursed city for your sorry ass?" Francis' tone rises for a second there, sneering. He coughs, regaining his composure. "As brilliant as I am and as good as the script for Nuclear Snake is, I don't have the time to make up and execute a cheesy story about me getting stuck in damn Prague just to see you. Without even having the confirmation that ... this would happen."

"Well, do you have the time to stay a few days longer in this accursed city, maybe?" Adam asks, the mocking way he imitates Francis' voice making the other man turn his head as well. "Since you owe me one."

"I guess I do owe you that much, Jensen," Francis replies with a lopsided smirk, rare and genuine and enough for Adam to move onto his side. "Adam," Pritchard whispers and lips find lips once more, softly and without a doubt.

Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Based on real events when I got stuck at the airport in Prague cause they lost my luggage. Except I knew no-fucking-body there and had to sleep there.~~


End file.
